One Week of Hell
by Aqua
Summary: Complete - (SLASH, HD) - When a spell forces Harry and Draco to work together, their either going to get along, or kill each other. Or something else all together...
1. Chapter 1

Title: One Week of Hell Author: Aqua Genre: Romance Pairing: Draco/Harry Rating: PG-13, mostly for language Disclaimer: Storyline of this fic belongs to me. Characters and real storyline do not.

Author's Note: I decided to get writing again, starting with this fic. I'm going to go through the first few chapters and fix them up, perhaps change something here or there for the evolved idea's I've had for the story. I hope you don't mind giving them a quick re-read, just in case some of these changes turn out to be important ones.  
Also, as was said here before, I'm working off of my knowlege that I've learned from both the books and the movies. Esentially, it's the same, but I've glossed over what I've needed to in order to make this fic work.  
Obviously, it's a Timeline? What Timeline? fic. Hopefully you enjoy it.

One Week of Hell Chapter 1: The Disasterous Outcome

Harry couldn't believe his misfortune. During summer vacation, he had to put up with the Dursley's comments and unfair, often cruel treatment of him. Each year he'd spent at Hogwarts, he'd had to survive mortal danger, battle hideous monsters, outwit puzzles like those he had never seen before. He had nearly died on countless numbers of occassions, but had shrugged it all off and continued with his magical training, honestly admitting that being able to learn magic was worth all of the hassles he'd had to put up with.

This, however, had to top it all.

It began in Defense of the Dark Arts class, which wasn't much of a surprise. Harry was minding his own business, copying down the notes as Professor Grendall, the new teacher, spoke them. His mind was drifting just a little, so that he was startled when he was called to the front of the class.

He grabbed his wand and proceeded to where the teacher wanted him, then blinked in startlement when, of all people, Draco Malfoy was called up as well. He grimaced, not knowing what was coming but knowing that he wouldn't enjoy it. Nothing that involved both himself and Malfoy ended up with pleasant consequences.

Grendall asked them to face each other, then turned to the class. "I'm going to teach you all a very important spell. It's a complecated defense spell, but one that may come very much in handy some day. I'm going to have Potter and Malfoy example the spell, since it is difficult to describe without visual aid."

Malfoy was sneering at him, and Harry's stomach clenched. He could only hope that he would be the one to cast the spell on the other. Otherwise, he could only imagine what Malfoy would do. He'd be lucky if Malfoy didn't take the opportunity to hex him with some other nasty curse.

"Now then, the two of you must face each other," Grendall stated. As they already were, he quickly continued. "Concentrate on the person in front of you, and make sure you keep your wand in the ready position. At the same time, I'll count to three for you and you speak afterward, say the word 'Sarcio'. Both of you must cast the spell at exactly the same moment. Understand?"

Relunctantly, Harry set his eyes on Malfoy. He could see a bit of confusion in the other's eyes, an echo of his own. He didn't like the idea of casting a spell before he knew what it did, but he had no choice. Grendall was staring at them with expectant faces. Certainly, the teacher wouldn't have them cast anything that could be dangerous. Still, that didn't rid him of the nervousness he felt.

"Sure," Harry said relunctantly.

"Bring it on," Malfoy returned, his familiar sneer returning.

Grendall counted down and, as instructed, the two spoke at the same time. Their wands exploded with light, the two beams hitting each other mid way between the two boys. For a breif moment, the light was so bright that Harry was forced to close his eyes. He felt a tugging sensation on his wand, but held onto it tightly. For a breif moment, his entire body felt as though it were on fire.

It lasted a bare moment before, suddenly, everything was back to normal. The light was gone and the strange sensation he'd felt was gone.

Harry blinked, seeing Malfoy completely unscathed. He, too, had been untouched by the spell. He turned confused eyes to Professory Grendall, but was interrupted before he could ask what had gone wrong.

"Now then, Potter, disarm Malfoy," Grendall stated.

Blinking, his confusion doubling, Harry turned to Malfoy. The other boy was scowling, obviously upset that he wasn't the one disarming, but remained quiet. Harry opened his mouth for the disarming spell, but found himself choking on the word. He tried again, but no matter how hard he tried to force the word out, it refused to emurge from his throat. It was an utterly frustraiting feeling, like forgetting what you were going to say right before you went to say it.

"Excellent," Grendall exclaimed. "Now, Malfoy, disarm Potter."

Having seen Harry's trouble, Malfoy's eyes narrowed. Harry saw him open his mouth, then utter a choked gasp. He tried again, with the same result.

"Wonderful! The spell worked perfectly then!" Grendall exclaimed.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded.

"Sarcio is a defense spell. There are three variations, Sarcio being the most short term. The other two are Sacium and Seracio," Grendall stated calmly to the class, as though both boys weren't glaring at him.

"What exactly does it do?" Malfoy questioned, a sharp edge to his voice.

"Well, it's quite simple. Say you and a friend end up in the middle of a Muggle city. You are afraid that you might use magic, even unwittingly, and cause trouble. Or, perhaps, you are in danger from an opponent who wants to learn a certain spell off of you. There are some people who hunt down those who know rare spells and force them into telling. With the use of the Sarcio branch, you can keep yourself safe in both situations," Grendall stated.

"It keeps you from being able to utter any spell-casting words without the help of the person whom you casted Sarcio with," Hermione added.

"Correct!" Grendall said, beaming. "Sarcio works for one week, Sacium for a month, and Seracio for a year."

"So we can't use magic for a week?" Harry asked, shocked.

"How the hell are we supposed to do our work in class?" Malfoy demanded.

Grendall looked taken back for a moment. "Watch your language, Malfoy," he said sternly, then grinned. "As Hermoine pointed out, the two of you can still use your magic. You simply need to cast your spells at the same time. Since Slytherin and Gryffendor have their classes together, that shouldn't be too difficult."

For a brief moment, Harry wanted to curse. Then he wanted to cry. Then he wanted to punch Professor Grendall. Then he wanted to punch Malfoy. In the end, he could only shake his head in disbelief, a sinking sensation in his stomach. There wasn't really anything he could do now that he'd been put into the situation.

"You should of told us that before we cast the spell," Malfoy growled.

Grendall shook his head. "I wanted to paint a clear picture of the spell to everyone by using an example. This could be a very important spell in life, especially with all of the things I've been told have happened in this school in the past couple of years. Besides, just partner up for your assignments and you'll do fine. I'll let your teachers know, of course."

Unable to help the thought, Harry wondered if Grendall had gone completely mad. Although they were only a month into their new year, Grendall had to know that he and Malfoy hated each other. Everyone knew that, especially since they'd gotten into no less than three fights resulting in detention already this year. The sparkes which flew between them were almost visible, and Malfoy had taken as many opportunities as possible to insult Harry or sabotague his spells.

Looking over at Malfoy, he saw unmistakable fury in those cloudy grey eyes. The blond looked like he was going to explode at any moment. Harry groaned mentally, closing his eyes with a grimace. If Malfoy's anger over the situation was that obvious, this week was going to be torture.

"Now then, take your seats and we'll get on with class," Grendall stated firmly.

Harry was a bit surprised when Malfoy made his way to his seat without a word. However, judging by his stiff walking and tense expression, it was taking all of his control.

Dispairing, Harry made his way to his own seat. Ron and Hermione gave him pitying glances as he sat down, but Harry could only shrug at the situation.

Hermione raised her hand. "Professor, certainly there is a way to reverse the spell? I mean, Harry and Malfoy can't possibly seek each other out every time they wish to cast a spell. I mean, trying to complete just their homework could be very difficult, especially since neither of them can enter the other's dorm."

Harry's head snapped up hopefully, and he saw Malfoy do the same. That hope was crushed when Grendall shook his head. "I'm afraid not. The spell is a form of ultimate protection for your spells. It cannot be reversed or cancelled. The two casters must simply wait until the spell has run its course."

"That's such an unfair thing to do," Ron growled, low enough that Grendall wouldn't hear but so Harry could. "Certainly, you should talk to Professor Dumbledore. To force you into a situation like this certainly can't be something he would approve of. Maybe he can think of some kind of solution."

Harry shrugged, remaining quiet since Grendall was explaining the spell's roots. He wasn't very inclinded to take down the notes, his mind caught up in the trouble he'd just found himself forced into. This next week was going to be a nightmare. Ron's idea of going to see Dumbledore was a good suggestion, although Harry couldn't think of it ending with anything other than Grendall getting into trouble. Honestly, what was Grendall thinking, forcing them into each other's company for an entire week? Harry knew that at least one of them would be in the hospital wing before the week was through. 


	2. Chapter 2

One Week of Hell Chapter 2: Forced Truce

Harry stared up at the ceiling of the hospital wing, still trying to supress the anger and frustraition he'd been feeling all day. It had dwindled considerably when he'd had the pain of his injuries to deal with, but had come back in full force once the pain-killing spell had taken affect.

Unwillingly, Harry glanced over at the source of his anger, only a few beds away. Malfoy was still working on the homework Crabbe and Goyle had brought him, and thankfully hadn't said a word to Harry the entire time they'd been here. They'd missed all of their afternoon classes thanks to their fight. He'd only just finished his own homework, supplied by Hermione, a few moments before. He'd hardly been able to concentrate on it, his thoughts often trailing back to what had conspired after Potions class.

Advanced Potions was their first class after Defence Against the Dark Arts, their last class before their lunch break. Harry, for once, had been looking forward to it. Advanced Potions was one of the few classes he could think of that didn't need incantations in order for him to do his work. Grendall had said that he would inform their other teachers of their situation as soon as possible, but Harry knew that he wouldn't have the chance until the day's classes were over.

Unfortunately, that day, Snape had decided to teach them a particular potion that did need an incantation after brewing. Harry had kept his head down, following the instructions without saying a word, hoping that Snape wouldn't draw any attention to him. There were some days that Snape left him alone, although he usually turned his attention on some other poor Gryffendor instead.

The class was supposed to brew the potion, then would say the incantation when Snape gave them direction to. He and Malfoy had sat at their usual tables as far away from each other as possible, and Harry's plan was to wait until the moment they were to say the incantation, then say it along with Malfoy. He'd known that, since Malfoy didn't want to fail this lesson any more than he did, the blond would say the words as planned.

However, as his luck seemed to be nill that day, he wasn't really surprised when what he'd feared happened.

Once they were finished brewing, Snape glanced around at the class before his eyes rested on Harry. The youth sank into his seat, not meeting the other's eyes, hoping Snape would pass his gaze right along and decide to pick on someone else today.

Of course, it hadn't happened. "Potter," he said, "you start. Nessiso."

Harry's eyes had immediately snapped to Malfoy. The blond was watching him, a darkly satisfied expression on his face. His stomach sank all the way to his ankles. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Malfoy was not going to say it with him. Gods, he wished that Snape hadn't selected him out, had simply let the entire class cast the spell, so that things could of gone on without a hitch. Someone must of hexed him when he hadn't been looking, considering his bad luck. He could only prey that Malfoy would have a change of heart, as impossible as it seemed, and allow Harry to follow Snape's command.

Taking a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated with every ounce of willpower he possessed. However, when he opened his mouth, the word caught in his throat just as he'd known it would, and he gave out nothing but a wheeze.

Snape's already hard expression hardened even more. "We're waiting, Potter," he snapped.

Giving Malfoy a desperate look, he saw that the other was barely containing laughter. After all, as long as Snape didn't know about the spell, he wouldn't get into any trouble. All at once, Harry's helplessness turned into anger and he glared at the other boy. "You sadistic bastard," he grumbled under his breath.

Too late, he realized his mistake. Snape was standing close enough to hear him and he immediately took defence. His ears were still ringing, hours later, from the verbal lashing he'd gotten for calling Snape such a name. Harry had tried to explain the situation several times, but was always interrupted before he could get more than a few words out. Finally, when Snape was finished and Gryffendor lost thirty points and he had a week worth of detention, Harry could do nothing but stare down at the floor, trying with all his might to resist the urge to storm across the room and strangle Malfoy.

Ron and Hermione had wanted to jump to his defense, but Harry told them to just leave it alone. He knew Snape would just twist the situation around and land them into trouble was well. He would speak to Professor Dumbledore the second he was given the opportunity, explain the situation, and he would fix the problem that way.

To make his situation even more degrating, Snape gave him a failing mark on the potion while Malfoy received a passing one without Snape even testing it. Harry knew that Malfoy hadn't been able to complete his potion, since Harry hadn't said Nessiso, or any other words, for the rest of the class. It had increased his fury at the other even more.

As soon as they were out of class, Harry had charged after Malfoy. He reached the blond just after ascending the nearby stairway, grabbing Malfoy's robes and throwing him against the closest wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" he had yelled.

Malfoy pushed him back. "You!" he returned.

Both of their tempers having raised beyond boiling point, frustraited and angry over their situation, no more words were exchanged as they'd gotten into a fight of shoving and punching. Harry was proud to admit that he gave as good as he got, although he had cursed himself an idiot afterward for picking such a stupid location to pick a fight.

During one of his attempts to throw Malfoy to the floor, they'd gotten too close to the edge and Malfoy slipped off the step. However, his hand was clenching Harry's robe and he'd been pulled after the other. A thirty-step stone stairway was not something he ever wanted to fall down again. They'd both been rushed to the hospital wing almost immediately after falling, carrying massive bruises and several broken bones.

Madam Pomfrey had lectured them both as she'd bandaged them up, using the words 'foolish' and 'careless' and 'your own damned fault' many times more than Harry would of liked to hear. It had taken several spells to heal the more serious of their injuries, and Harry was covered nearly head to toe with some kind of healing lotion that would take care of his bruises. Although she could usually mend bones without difficulty, there were just too many injuries to account for and she wanted to keep them overnight in case they had concussions or any kind of complications.

Closing his eyes, Harry seethed. If Malfoy hadn't been such a selfish jerk, they wouldn't be in this mess. He should of spoken to the other before heading to Potions, should of suspected that Malfoy would pull something like that on him.

Harry opened his mouth, ready to start yelling at the other, when his mouth snapped shut again and he gave a frustraited groan. Common sense had suddenly slapped him in the face once that day, and Harry realized that he couldn't retaliate against the other boy no matter how badly he wanted to. For a brief moment he felt cheated, as though some kind of right had been pulled away. If he and Malfoy continued to fight then it was highly likely they wouldn't cast their spells together. And Harry didn't welcome the thought of failing every class he had for the next week.

Movement out of the corner of his eye alerted him to the fact that Malfoy had finished his homework. Harry watched him putting his books away, continuing to completely ignoring him, before laying down.

"You know, we have to work something out eventually," Harry commented.

Malfoy didn't bother to reply.

Taking a deep breath to keep his temper under control, Harry turned onto his side, ignoring the twinge in his leg. "You can ignore me all you want, but that doesn't change our situation. Snape might look the other way for you, as Hagrid will for me, but the other professors certainly won't. Unless you want to fail every class for the next week, which I don't, we'll have to figure something out."

For a long moment, Malfoy didn't reply. Then he slammed his fist down on the bed, the hand that wasn't broken, and cursed. "That stupid Grendall. I'll see that he gets fired for pulling such a stunt," he growled.

"Grendall isn't what we need to be discussing," Harry pointed out, although for a brief moment he almost agreed. He knew it was just his frustration and injuries talking, but he wasn't very sympathetic to the professor right now. "What we need to be concerned about is how we're going to manage for the next week. Whether we like it or not, we're stuck having to work together."

"A fate worse than death," Malfoy commented, his words laced with bitterness and sarcasm.

"Yeah, well I'm not exactly jumping with joy at the idea either," Harry snapped.

There was a long stretch of silence as both of them tried to reel in their temper. Finally, Harry felt he was calm enough to speak again. "Look, we don't have to get along. We don't even have to speak to each other. We do, however, have to put up with each other long enough to cast the necessary spells to keep ourselves out of trouble."

Malfoy remained quiet for a few moments longer, long enough that Harry began to suspect that he was being ignored again. "Look, you were a real wanker today, you know that? I came out having the worst of it today, but I could have just as easily done it to you and landed you in trouble," he pointed out. "You're lucky we ended up in the hospital ward instead of in the rest of our classes, otherwise I would of done so."

"You wouldn't of had the guts," Malfoy taunted.

"Don't test my patience, Malfoy," Harry growled. "I might not be able to hex you, but even you can't deny I landed some pretty good shots in our fight."

"Yeah, then you pushed me down the stairs. And I thought you were obsessed with your goody-goody image. Wait until everyone finds out what a dirty fighter you are," Malfoy returned, a smirk rising on his lips.

Harry slowly counted to ten, taking a deep breath. "Look, will you stop being such a prat for a minute and just listen to me? We have to do something about this situation, and you're not helping matters. How are we supposed to work together if you won't keep your big mouth shut for more than two seconds?"

"You're arguing just as much as I am," Malfoy pointed out.

Harry couldn't comment on that one, since it was true. He sighed, falling onto his back once again. "I guess there's no helping it. We're never going to get along long enough to do our work properly. Unfortunate, considering we have a test in Transfiguration in two days," he said.

Silence reigned once again and Harry closed his eyes. Obviously, they wouldn't be able to come up with a solution. The best he could do would be to get a good night's sleep, then speak to Professor Dumbledore in the morning about their problem. He needed to discuss Snape's punishment with the man anyway. Maybe Dumbledore would be able to pull a few strings, as unlikely as it sounded, and help him out. Harry didn't want to be scrubbing the Potion's classroom floor with a toothbrush every afternoon, on top of everything else that was going on.

"A truce," Malfoy said suddenly, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked.

"As much as I hate it, the only option we've got is to make a truce," Malfoy explained.

Harry raised an eyebrow, turning to find Malfoy's grey eyes fixed on him. "What kind of truce? I won't kill you if you don't kill me?" he asked.

Malfoy snickered and Harry felt himself grin. Then, realizing that they were actually sharing a joke, both boys glared at each other once again. It was an automatic response.

"What I mean is, we do what is necessary. I don't plan on failing my lessons, even if it means having to work with you. You just keep your nose out of my business, we'll cast the spells we have to cast during classes, and then we'll avoid each other as much as possible," Malfoy stated.

Harry thought about it for a moment, then found he had to agree. He couldn't think of a better idea, so this would have to do. "You can't pull what you did today again, though. If I keep up my part of the deal, you have to as well," he stated firmly.

Malfoy made a face. "Fine, whatever," he said.

The discussion ending on that note, Harry turned his back on the other. He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. Still, he could only wonder how long this truce would actually last. 


	3. Chapter 3

One Week of Hell Chapter 3: Tension

Their first class of the next day was Charms. Harry relunctantly took the seat next to Malfoy at the two person desk, pulling out his parchment and quill without saying anything to the other boy. Crabbe and Goyle were seated at the desk on Malfoy's right, while Ron and Hermione were seated at the desk to Harry's left. There was definate tension in the air and, although everyone in the class knew the reason why, most of them had stared at Harry and Malfoy as they walked into the classroom. Harry felt as though he were a specimen under a microscope, the way everyone's eyes kept watching him.

Of course, it probably had something to do with their fight, which the whole school knew about already. It hadn't taken long for it to get around about the battle which had sent both of them to the hospital wing with at least five broken bones each. It had been the only topic of discussion all through breakfast, as far as Harry could tell. Even the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses were talking about it.

He knew everyone was waiting for a second confrontation. Although fights sometimes occured, it wasn't every day the two most competative students in the school went at it with their fists. In fact, Harry thought with a slight frown, despite their many verbal battles, he and Malfoy had never had an actual physical fight before. There had been a few magical ones, but even those were few in number. It had been both disturbing and satisfying, to slam his fist into Malfoy's nose, as though all of his years of frustraition had poured out with it. He hadn't liked that violent part of himself, but he had liked the way Malfoy's head had snapped back.

At least his luck seemed to have returned. They spent the entire class discussing the aspects of a charm they had learned yesterday, analizing its purposes and set backs, its simularities to other charms, and in what situation it would be most suitable. He and Malfoy managed to go the entire class without having to say one word to each other as they wrote their notes, stubbornly ignoring one another.

Unfortunately, Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't as easy. Grendall was still teaching them about the Sarcio spell and its branches. Every example Grendall used, he had Harry and Malfoy perform the spell. At first, it was frustraiting trying to work together, both of them saying the word at different times, refusing to look at each other even as their tempers began to frey once again.

Finally, Grendall pointed out that it would be much simpler if they counted to three before speaking, his expression exhasperated. Feeling like an idiot for not having thought of the solution sooner, Harry did as was instructed. Although their spells afterward worked without a problem, there ever-present tension in the air had grown even heavier. Neither of them liked having to be dependant on each other. After so many years, Harry had gotten used to using magic regularily, having it just flow from his mouth and wand. He ran into obsiticals as he learned new things, but it had never left him feeling as vulnerable as this. As the class had gone on, and he'd had to recant more and more spells with Malfoy's words along with his own, the realization had finally hit Harry rather hard. For six more days, his magic was completely useless without Malfoy. He felt as though he had no power, no defense, and he didn't like that feeling.

It was a relief when the class ended and Harry almost collapsed on his desk when the bell rang signalling that he could go. Really, Grendall was having a grand time forcing them to work together, and it felt like his last nerve was being stomped on.

"You look like you're either going to kill someone or have a nervious break down," Hermione commented as they made their way down to the dungeons for Advanced Potions.

Harry tried to force the tension out of his shoulders, rubbing his fingers against the tight muscles there. "Wait a bit, and I might just do both," he replied dryly.

"Are you still sore?" Ron asked, noting the shoulder rubbing.

Harry shrugged, lowering his arm. "That particular pain is entirely stress created. Madam Pomfrey said that I would ache for most of today, if not a bit of tomorrow, but all of my bones are mended. I've just got a few bruises left. Still, I'm exhausted from having to put up with Malfoy, and we're only one class into the day," he replied.

"That was a pretty wicked fight, Harry. I've never seen you so angry," Ron said. A wicked light came into his eyes. "I gotta say, if Malfoy hadn't fallen down the stairs, he would of gotten his ass kicked."

Unable to help himself, Harry grinned. Hermione tisked at them. "You shouldn't be so proud of yourself, Harry. You're very lucky that Professor Dumbledore thought you'd had enough pain as punishment, otherwise you'd have detention for a month. In fact, you could of even gotten yourself expelled, had Grendall not explained the situation to him," she stated.

"I was kind of wondering why he hadn't said anything. I'm lucky that Professor Dumbledore has such patience. I guess after hearing about what happened, it was understandable that we'd fly off the handle. I mean, Malfoy and I have never been able to say more than two words to each other without getting into an argument, and he knows that," Harry said.

"You've managed today relatively well," Ron commented, a slightly surprised look on his face.

Harry gave a ruefull grin. "Malfoy and I made a truce. Neither of us wants to fail or recieve punishment. We decided that we'd ignore each other besides when we have to cast spells in order to avoid more conflict," Harry explained.

"A truce with Malfoy? Think he'll keep it up?" Ron asked. He didn't look as though he believed Malfoy was capable of such a thing.

Harry shook his head. "It was his idea, but I still have some doubts. I just know he'll take advantage of the situation the second that he can."

Their arrival at Snape's class ceased further discussion, and Harry took his place at Malfoy's table once again. He didn't know if they would be doing another potion that required a spell, but he figured it would be easier this way just in case.

Luck was with him once again and Harry was able to complete his potion without having to speak to Malfoy once. He had to give the other boy credit, he was keeping his part of the deal so far. It was a rare thing, to go through two classes without even one snide remark. He found himself waiting for it every time he made the slightest mistake or when he spoke to Ron and Hermione. In the past, Malfoy had thrown in his own rude comments every chance he was given. It was almost disturbing to go through three straight hours without one.

Even Snape had ignored him, besides one scathing comment about getting out of detention. He made it sound as though Harry had begged Dumbledore, but gave him only dark looks after he'd finished with his comments.

When class finished and they filed out of the room, Harry found himself feeling a little disoriented and confused. Throughout all of his years at Hogwarts, he'd had to deal with Malfoy's arrogant attitude, strong hatred, and sneering comments. He was used to either Snape or Malfoy finding something to chide him for, even if it was as rediculous as his writing ink being the wrong color. He didn't know what he found so unsettling, really he should be glad that he'd gone through one of his first hassle-free days, but he couldn't shake off a sense of wrongness over their behaviour.

It was almost as if he missed Malfoy's taunting, as rediculous as that sounded. They day just seemed... uneventful.

Shaking off the thought, Harry followed Hermione and Ron toward the dining hall. He grimaced when half the people in the room fell silent and stared at him as he went by. Everyone had just finally started treating him like a normal person instead of the famed "Boy Who Lived", and now here he was once again sticking out of the crowd.

"They'll get over it, eventually," Hermione said, as though reading his thoughts. He glanced at her, and she grinned. "It was written all over your face. It is easy to tell when you're self-concious because you start looking like you're trying to turn invisible."

Harry flushed with embarrasment, but had to admit that it was true. "I just hate the fact that I thought this year would finally be the one where I wouldn't be the center of attention, and here I am being gawked at all over again. It really gets to be tiring, having people stare at you and whisper about you all day," he said with a sigh, taking his seat.

"Just do what you do every year and try to ignore it," Ron suggested. "How about we talk about the upcoming Quiddich practice? Wood named you his successor as captain. Have you thought about strategy?"

Taking Ron's distraction, Harry turned his thoughts to Quiddich. After the disaster over the Triwizard Tournament, they had reintroduced Quiddich as the school sport. Harry had taken over as captain when Wood graduated, promising the other boy that he would do his absolute best to make Gryffendor victorious, and he'd spent the entire summer thinking about what kind of new strategy he would bring to the field.

Happy to keep his thoughts away from Malfoy, Harry and Ron talked Quiddich all through lunch. 


	4. Chapter 4

One Week of Hell Chapter 4: Hints of Truth

Harry stiffled a yawn as he placed his broom back in the storage shed, having just completed several hours of Quiddich practice. All of them had worked hard practicing different flying plans, and Harry could feel the exhaustion in his body.

Normally, flying brought him a rush of adreneline, something that stil hadn't gone away even after flying for five years. He'd still enjoyed himself, but his mind felt weighed down. Five days remained of the curse, and he wondered if his body would last. Despite the fact that Malfoy had been on his best behaviour the last two days, Harry still felt ill at ease. The constant tension was starting to affect him, a constant headache lurking and his consentration waning more often than usual.

Things had been going smoothly, but Harry still couldn't get rid of the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He was used to this feeling, although it usually had something to do with someone trying to kill him, but it held a slightly bitter taste this time. He needed things to get back to normal, so he could get rid of the feeling that he was walking along a very sharp edge. He didn't know what would happen should he fall, and he certainly didn't want to find out.

The trip back to the Gryffendor tower took him past the library, and Harry paused when he spotted Malfoy inside. The other youth was bent over a parchement, but wasn't writing. He was just staring down at it, as though his mind were a miliion miles away.

Harry longed to keep walking, take the shower that he wanted, then crawl into bed and forget his troubles for the night. However, his own inner sense of what was right wouldn't allow it. Harry was certain there was no way Malfoy would ask for help. But if he needed a hand with a spell, Harry couldn't just turn his back on the other and leave him to suffer the consiquences.

With a sigh that heaved his shoulders, Harry made his way into the library and took a seat across from Malfoy.

"So, what spell do you need?" he questioned, pulling his wand out from beneath his Quiddich robes.

Malfoy blinked and looked up at him, as though he hadn't noticed Harry sit down, then frowned at him. "What?" he asked.

"What spell do you need?" Harry repeated. "I figured from your expression that you needed a hand. And heaven forbids that you should ever ask for help, so I'm offering."

Unreadable steel colored eyes stared at him for such a long moment that Harry found himself fidgeting a little. Really, Malfoy had a powerful gaze. It had just never struck Harry as much until this moment, and he had to force himself not to look away. It was a little disconcerting, having those eyes carefully take in every detail of his face.

Not wanting to back down, Harry did likewise. Puberty had been kind to Malfoy. His skin was smooth and blemishless, everything perfectly purportioned to everything else. His cheeks had filled out a little, softening the point of his nose and chin, and filling out his mouth. Harry had never looked so closly at the other before, never noticed the almost startlingly pale skin or that Malfoy's hair had grown so that it hung past his jaw. On someone else, those features may of seemed feminine, but they simply made Malfoy look... elegant.

Harry shook his head slightly, closing his eyes and breaking the gaze. He was a little confused at the thoughts he'd just had. He'd never really taken such close notice of another person before, usually distracted by something or another, and found it a little unsettling that he'd found Malfoy's features so be so pleasing. Okay, so he had to admit that Malfoy had always made him feel clumsy and ruffled, a little jealous of the ease which Malfoy handled himself with. Being the center of attention so many times, Harry was rather self-concious of his messy hair and plodding steps. Next to Malfoy, he felt unrefined.

"Anyway," Harry continued, trying to break the train of thought he was in, "do you need my help or not?"

"No."

Harry was a little startled by the abrupt response, but managed to keep himself from snapping back a response. "Okay," he replied, getting to his feet.

He hesitated just a moment, then made his way toward the door.

'You needed a hand.'

'So I'm offering.'

He'd offered his hand once. It had been rejected.

That memory had stayed with him for a very long time, and not just because of the punishment it had brought upon him.

'I've heard that Harry Potter will be attending your school. You've heard the name, right Draco? I want you to make friends with him. I don't care how, you will make friends with "The Boy Who Lived".'

The failure had been made even more sharp by the fact that Potter had made friends with Weasley. He'd never been able to live that shame down, nor rid himself of the whisp of jealousy that had taken hold of him.

Draco had been raised with a firm hand from his father. He was used to being pushed to being the best, and of achieving that. The first nine years of his life had given Draco an ego, pride and a sense of self. He'd always been the most magically talented kid in his class.

Until Hogwarts.

Until Harry Potter.

And, for the first time in his life, he'd learned the bitterness of failure.

Again and again.

And now this situation had presented itself. It was all he could do to keep his resentment for Potter from boiling over. The failure that Potter had turned him into, the depth of hatred that it had caused in Draco couldn't even be described. Sometimes he thought he could reach past it. But all he had to do was see Harry win yet another Quiddich match, cast his glance at his friends, or get yet another spell aced, and that burning would return. And now he couldn't even cast a simple spell without Potter's help.

Draco took a deep breath and let his head drop into his hands. The weekend was the day after tomorrow, and he was at a complete loss of what to do. His father would be expecting results, and there was no way Draco could give them in the condition he was in. He didn't exactly want to tell his father that he was presently spell-bound to Potter. But if he refused to display the spells he'd learned, he'd end up in even more trouble.

Once again, he cursed that damned Dark Arts teacher. Hadn't the man paused to think that his actions might have consequences beyond the obvious? Hadn't he bothered to consider that Draco might have a life beyond classes?

With a sigh, the blond picked up the closest book to him, once again starting his search for a solution, any solution, to the problem at hand. 


	5. Chapter 5

One Week of Hell Chapter 5: Trust is Precious

Harry faultered a little when he saw Malfoy waiting outside of the dining hall after dinner. When the peircing gaze fixed on him, it didn't take much to guess that he was whom Malfoy was waiting for.

It took a bit of convincing, but he finally talked Ron and Hermoine into heading up to the tower without him, leaving him to talk to Malfoy in private.

He had to wonder if this was the end to the third of peaceful days as he followed Malfoy into a nearby empty classroom.

"So, what do you want?" he asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

Malfoy continued to stay quiet, although Harry was surprised to notice that he was fidgetting with the edge of his robe. It had always been difficult to read Malfoy's emotions, but he looked almost nervous now.

"I guess heaven doesn't forbid it, Potter. I need your help," Malfoy finally said, sounding as though the words were ripped from his chest.

Harry's brows lifted at the admission, but refained from commenting. One only had to know Malfoy for five minutes to know he was extremely proud, never mind five years. Harry wasn't about to press his luck with the truce by taking the presented opportunity to tease the other. Besides, he'd like to of thought he was better than that. He might react to Malfoy's insults, but he didn't want to start throwing the first punch.

"Look, my father likes to keep close tabs on what I'm learning. This weekend we have an appointment for me to show him the spells I've learned so far in the year. Obviously, I don't want him knowing about our present situation, and I can't exactly bring you with me," Malfoy continued after a short pause.

Harry wasn't all that surprised to hear this. The older Malfoy always seemed to know what was going on in the school, undoubtedly from connections including Draco himself. "So what do you want to talk to me about? Wouldn't it be simplest just to reschedule with your father?"

Malfoy snorted and the familiar contemptuous expression returned to his face. "Cancel with my father? And here I thought you were supposed to be smart. You have met my father, heaven't you, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, so bad suggestion. At least I've made one. What bright idea's do you have?"

Malfoy selected one of the books out of the group he was carrying and let it fall onto a nearby desk. "This," he stated, opening it up to a certain page.

Harry peered at it, but didn't recognize the spell. "What is it?"

"A mind joining spell," Malfoy stated, matter-of-factly.

Harry gave him a long look. "You're joking right? You want me to cast a mind joining spell with you?"

Malfoy didn't meet his gaze. "It's a very simple spell, and easily reversable. We cast this before I leave, this way you will know what spell I need to cast and when. As soon as I get back on Sunday, we remove it. This way, my father never needs to know that anything's wrong. Then we ride out the last of the Sarcio curse and everything goes back to normal."

Harry was quiet as he digested this, his uncertainty still strong.

After his silence had stretched to almost a minute, Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I need you to trust me. I know that's asking a lot, but it is my ass on the line this time. I don't want to end up grounded until I graduate. This spell is perfectly safe. It simply allows us to talk just like we are now, except mentally."

Malfoy paused and glanced away. "I don't exactly want to do this either, but I spent most of yesterday searching through books, and this was the only solution I could find. You're known for helping those who are in need of it, Potter. Are you going to dirty up your reputation on my account?"

Harry was a little miffed at this, although he kept his temper this time. "Are you sure this is all that can be done?"

"Yes, as I said, I spent several hours searching. Since there is no reversal for Sarcio, I had to find some other solution and this is the only one. It's not like you can turn invisble and follow me home."

Actually, Harry could, thanks to his Invisiblity Cloak, but he wasn't about to reveal his possession of that to Malfoy. Besides, he didn't think he'd want to go to Draco's house.

"True, but joining minds? I don't exactly want you going around in my mind and poking about."

"I can't do anything like that. I've read up on the spell to make sure I knew all that I could about it. Basically, we can only hear what the other thinks directly to us. There's no way to enter the other's brain or anything like that."

Harry took a deep breath, considering Malfoy's words very carefully. "And this is the only option?" he finally questioned again, his voice filled with disbelief.

"The only one." 


	6. Chapter 6

One Week of Hell Chapter 6: Spells that Bind

Trust me, he says.

Harry couldn't think of anyone he knew that he could trust less in this school. In all the time that Harry had known him, Malfoy had hated him. Had scorned, challenged, insulted, and just plain aggrivated him. If one removed all of the challenges which Harry had faced over the years, everything that had to do with Voltemort and his parents death, there would still remain all of the problems Malfoy had caused for him. And that alone could drive any student crazy.

So why the hell had he agreed?

Harry had found that he couldn't sleep because of that question. It haunted him. He needed a reason for his actions, and hadn't been able to find a satisfying one for his agreement. It wasn't simply because Malfoy had asked. Baring his mind to the other wasn't something that he would just allow to happen because Malfoy asked.

It wasn't because of Malfoy's ending taunt. He was so used to those that it was more of a habit than anything else to respond.

So why? Malfoy hadn't needed to beg. Hell, he hadn't even said please. The conversation had gone on as though he were asking to borrow Harry's homework, instead of his mind.

He didn't even know exactly what it would entail. Malfoy had lent him the book, to read the spell over, but it was slightly vague. From what he could gather, he would hear Malfoy's thoughts like a whisper in his ear, but only those which were directed toward him. This, and the various situations where the spell came in handy were the only real information the book gave beyond how to cast the spell in the first place.

He was a little worried about any possible side effects. Although none had been listed, that didn't mean there weren't any. What if the reversal command didn't work? Would he have Malfoy in his head forever if that were the case?

WHY had he agreed to trust Malfoy? 


	7. Chapter 7

One Week of Hell Chapter 7: Dream

Harry knew more than anyone else that one single moment in time can change your entire life. That it would be this weekend, he never would of thought. However, it still came to pass.

The spell had been cast and Malfoy had left with his father.

As the book had said, the voice of the other was a whisper in his mind. A quiet presence that sounded almost like a lullaby, almost silent.

Only when Malfoy needed his help could Harry clearly make out what the other was thinking, the words coming as Malfoy had said, as though the boy was right in front of him as he spoke. It was much more simple than he thought, and it took only a few hours for Malfoy's father to be satisfied and they finished with the spell casting.

The rest of the day, Harry was able to act as normal, hanging out with his friends, catching up with his homework and attending Quiddich practice. He ran through different offences with Ron before heading to bed, pleasantly exhausted after a full day of enjoying himself.

It was then that it happened.

He was lost in his own world of dreams when another came upon him, like ocean waves that slowly grow stronger, until they overcame his own. He had been talking with Hermoine about something when mist began to billow into the room. Slowly, all that was around him vanished, until only the warm tingle of the mist remained. Despite suddenly finding himself alone, he wasn't afraid. A warm sensation was working through his body, his muscles relaxing as a sense of security came upon him.

"You really are a brilliant wizard, Draco. You know that, don't you?" he heard his own voice whisper.

It continued:

"I'm sorry I was such an idiot all those years ago. I should of taken your hand. I should of been your friend."

Sudden heat seared through him, and Harry gasped at the pleasure/pain it caused. He could feel soft fingertips on his chest, moving up to his neck before pausing on his face. Pressure came against his lips, innocent at first but increasingly passionate, until his lungs were burning for air and his lips felt bruised from pressure and nibbles. The hands never ceased their movement upon his body, increasing the firey sensation with every pass.

"I made such a mistake, Draco."

"Forget the others, I want to be with you."

"I love you."

NO!

Harry's eyes jerked open at the scream, his ears still ringing. It hadn't been his own that had made the final comment, forcing him awake. It had been Draco's voice... Draco's dream.

And as he laid there, staring up at the ceiling and desperately hoping Draco didn't know that he knew... Harry realized that his life had changed once again. Desperately, he tried to think of anything else, hoping Draco wouldn't know that he'd chanced upon the dream. Anything but that. 


	8. Chapter 8

One Week of Hell Chapter 8: Revelation of Character

"Harry, you look like a train wreck!"

Harry lifted his head up from his deep contemplation of his breakfast and gave Hermoine a slight glare. "Thanks," he replied.

"No, she's right," Ron put in. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

Before he could reply, Harry felt a slight buzz in the back of his mind. 'I'm going to need you to cast more spells after all' he heard.

Of course, it wasn't a question or a request. Either way, Harry was glad for the excuse to avoid his friend's curious gazes. "No, not really. I think I'll head back up to the room and see if I can get more rest," he replied.

Luckily, his friend's thought it was a good idea, and soon Harry was alone in the bedroom he shared with the other Gryffendor boys. Everyone else was still down having breakfast.

'What do you need?'

'Just a minute, my father is still talking.'

Apparently, the 'Weekend of Changes' wasn't quite over yet.

Harry found himself casting defensive spells, a few offensive thrown in here and there. Luckily, since he had no opponent, most of his spells pittered out before they went far from his wand. However, he could only wonder what was going on where Draco was. He couldn't pick up anything from the other boy's thoughts, they were firmly planted on the spells he was casting.

However, the spells began going more quickly, until Harry and Malfoy couldn't do their customary 'count to three' before he would have to say another. Once or twice, he felt a flash of pain work its way through. Not his own, but it hurt all the same.

'Malfoy, what's going on?'

There was a slight pause. 'Training. Now shup up and concentrate.' The response was rude and abrupt, but Harry didn't have a chance to reply before he was forced to cast yet another defensive spell.

Abruptly, he realized what was going on. Malfoy's father was giving him magical training. Probably to testing Malfoy's skill and speed. Harry couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be able to go home and have someone to practice with. It must be nice, to be allowed the luxury of casting at home. Of course, it wasn't supposed to be allowed, but with a father on the commity, Harry doubted Malfoy would get into trouble.

However, something still struck him as wrong. The amount of pain that came through the connection, the speed with which the spells were needed....

It wasn't like practicing at school. This almost seemed like a duel, except that Malfoy barely attacked his opponent. It went on for a solid hour before they could take a break, but went on ten minutes later for another two hours.

Harry had to thank whatever gods that were looking out for him that no one came into the dorm room while this was going on. He hadn't meantioned the mind joining to his friends, not wanting them to worry about it. Now he certainly didn't want to tell them, after the night he'd just had.

Finally, Malfoy told him that they were finished, and Harry fell onto his bed, truely exhausted by now. He'd hardly slept the night before, and this episode had taken a lot out of him. Now he was glad for making an excuse to his friends, because he could actually crawl back into bed and take the nap that he desperately needed.

This time, as he laid there, questions about last night didn't circle around his mind. It had only been so long that he could think about different things before the dream came back in full force. The implications that it created weren't many in number. Either it had been a dream completely out of the blue, coincidently on the night that they were joined.

Or Malfoy had a crush on him.

The second thought was completely rediculous, but that hadn't stopped Harry from lingering on it. He hadn't been able to stop himself from wondering what Malfoy's true feelings toward him were. Before last night, he wouldn't of thought anything but hatred. Now, however, he wasn't so sure.

It had, after all, been his own rejection of Malfoy that had begun the bad blood between them. What would the outcome of been, had Harry not made friends with Ron first? He was very grateful for the friends he had, but he hadn't been able to stop himself from wondering.

He was even more grateful that, this time, he fell asleep right away. 


	9. Chapter 9

One Week of Hell Chapter 9: Things I Never Knew

Harry was pulled from his slumber by an insistant shaking of his shoulder. Finally, he opened up his eyes and met Hermoine's ammused ones. "Did you know you snore?" she questioned.

"As long as I'm not the loudest one, I don't care," Harry replied groggily, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"You didn't even bother to change," Hermoine noted. "You really must of needed that sleep. You look better for it"  
nodded his agreement. He felt a lot better, although there was still some tiredness in his muscles. "How long was I sleeping?"

"About six hours. I made sure no one came up here to bother you, after lunch. You really looked like you needed the rest. I wouldn't of wanted to wake you up, but Malfoy is back and he refuses to move from in front of the Fat Lady unless he can talk to you. He's making quite a scene, you know."

He could see the annoyance in Hermoine's eyes and sighed as he got to his feet. "I guess it's too much to expect for him to be nice, even with the truce."

Hermoine smiled a little. "It's been a remarkable couple of days though. I never thought I'd see the day where you and Malfoy could be in the same room without arguing. Really, his behaviour is surprising. I hadn't expected him to actually keep up with your truce."

Harry shrugged. "Snape might cut him a break, but he'd be in just as much trouble as me with the other teachers, if he refused to do his work. I think the only reason we have any kind of peace between us is so he doesn't get into trouble."

"Still, it's nice while it's lasting, isn't it? He's barely said a word to all three of us, insult or otherwise. I didn't think it would be possible not to mind Malfoy's company. He's not as much of an insufferable git when he's keeping his mouth shut." Hermoine's lips quirked in a grin.

Harry found himself returning it. "Yes, he's much nicer to be around when he's not saying anything, isn't he?"

They reached the common room, and the conversation ended there was Harry made his way outside of their room. As Hermoine had said, Malfoy was waiting there, glaring at any of the Gryffendor's that walked past. Thankfully, netiher he nor they were saying anything.

Really, it was almost shocking, the way Malfoy's behaviour had changed. It was hard to believe that this was the same person standing in front of him as a week ago. Malfoy's expression was cast with a smug indifference, but the usual malice was gone from his eyes. Harry knew it was too good to be true that it would last once the Sarcio spell was done, but he couldn't stop a part of himself from hoping.

The first few days, it had simply been strange. The absense of insults and taunts had left Harry at a kind of loss, and the days had seemed almost boring. He hadn't realized how much... fun it had been to argue with Malfoy. Without that, the days seemed longer, duller. Without having to watch his words or keep a careful eye on his spells, the classes just seemed the same as any other day, without anything that got his pulse going.

Slowly that had changed, as he found a renewed interest for his magic, Harry found himself enjoying Malfoy's company. The other barely said a word to him, but as they had to sit next to each other in class, Harry found himself noticing things he hadn't before. It had become almost a game in Charms and Potions, to see who would finish first so that they could pointedly wait for the other. He had began to notice that Malfoy took almost impecable notes. Harry had to wonder why Malfoy's grades weren't as good as they could be, judging by how carefully he kept his attention on the task at hand.

That was another thing! Other than Hermoine, Harry had never seen anyone who could focus so completely on something. Malfoy's neat printing filled out his parchment with dedicated strokes that missed almost nothing that their Proffesor's said. Harry was unable to keep himself from sneaking peeks at the other throughout class, and every time Malfoy looked intent on the subject.

Harry had assumed that Malfoy's grades were a direct result of his schoolwork, that he didn't take down enough notes or something along those lines. Malfoy was in the top part of the class, of course, but Harry had honestly expected better way back when he'd first learned what Malfoy's father was like. It didn't seem as though there was any room for any kind of failure in that family, including not being the top of the class. Hermoine was in a class of her own, of course, but even Harry averaged a higher mark.

There were things he'd never bothered to learn about Malfoy. Well, many, many things. After all that Malfoy had done, Harry had lifted a mental sheild toward the other, almost obsessively forcing himself to ignore the other as much as he could.

Now, he found himself wondering many things, besides just the grades. Growing up, he'd heard the saying 'You can't know someone until you take a walk in their shoes' quite often. What would it be like to be Malfoy?

He'd gotten a bit of a taste this weekend. He could feel the undercurrents of emotion within Malfoy, none of which showed on his face. Malfoy always seemed cold and detached from what was going on around him. Now Harry knew it wasn't true. Malfoy felt just as much as anyone else did, his emotions strong and boiling right below the cool surface. Honestly, Harry suspected, Malfoy could be an incredibly passionate person, whether it be love or hate, if he were to allow his emotions more control of his self. Harry had seen only specks of it here and there over the years, just a bare amount that slipped through the cracks in Malfoy's facade during some of their fights.

Like the one that had happened just a few days ago. Malfoy had been furious, and Harry had managed to push that to the surface. Just as he had, Malfoy had lost some of that precious control and had let his anger and frustraition with their situation show.

Really, Harry had to wonder exactly how much Malfoy kept secret. Crabbe and Goyle were the only two people Harry saw Malfoy hang out with, but they were more like assistants than friends, it seemed. Did Malfoy have anyone he could trust to tell his secrets to? Did he have anyone to just hang out with, joke around with? When he was stressed, did he have anyone who could help him through his problems?

Harry couldn't even imagine what the last five years would of been like without his friends. Hermoine and Ron had stuck by his side through thick and thin, despite the danger it had put them in. Hagrid was always there to help the three of them out as well, and even Dumbledore had come to their aid on more than one occasion. Without them, Harry suspected he wouldn't of fared nearly as well through his years at Hogwarts. Without them, he probably would of gone insane, if he hadn't been killed, from all the troubles that had plagued him. They were there to cheer him up, to help him out, and give him the support he needed in all aspects of his life.

Malfoy didn't even have family to lean on. It seemed that his father was more like just having another teacher than a father. Malfoy didn't get along with any of the other teachers in the school, other than Snape. But Harry doubted Snape was the kind that you could bare your soul to. The Slytherin's had an almost awed respect for Malfoy, but Harry couldn't think of one that he'd seen Malfoy talk to any more than he had to.

To be alone so much... how could Malfoy handle it?

The silence between them had stretched to several long moments, Malfoy's eyes carefully taking in Harry's expression. Self-conciously, Harry realized that his clothes were wrinkled from being slept in, and he was sure at least some of his hair was standing on end. Again, it struck him how messy he was in comparison to the other. Malfoy didn't have a hair out of place, didn't have one spot of dust on his immaculate robes.

"Time to reverse the spell?" Harry questioned, having to clear his throat first and make sure that no one was in ear shot.

"Yes," Malfoy replied shortly. He glanced around as well, as though not trusting Harry to make sure the coast was clear, before he lifted his wand.

Harry did as well, but couldn't stop himself from asking, "What was that, today, with your father? Does he usually run you through training like that?"

Malfoy paused, his expression still unreadable. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"You know that I go home almost every weekend. Every two months, I show him what I've learned in school so far. Every once and a while, he tests my ability."

"Malfoy, that was more than 'testing your ability'. You were casting defensive spells right and left."

"Just testing my speed."

"But the pain, when we couldn't get the spell cast in time.... If I could feel it that strongly, I could only imagine what it was like for you."

This time there was a long silence, and Harry could see an undercurrent of anger smouldering in Malfoy's eyes. "My father just wants me to be the best. It's none of your damned business, Potter," he snapped.

"I know there is more to it than that," Harry replied, his tone a little short.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he spun on his heel, storming down the stairs. Harry stared after him for a moment, moving to the top of the staircase. "I just want to help you out," he called after the other. That was the truth, he was almost surprised to realize. It was in his nature to worry about others, even if that 'other' was Malfoy.

"I don't need your help!" Was Malfoy's biting remark before the other disappeared down a hallway.

Harry took a deep breath, then suddenly realized he could still hear Malfoy's voice. They'd completely forgotten about reversing the joining spell in wake of their argument. For a brief moment, Harry was tempted to run after Malfoy so that they could reverse it, but realized that would probably just result in them arguing more. He'd wait until Malfoy had cooled down.

Harry made his way back into the common room, and flopped down on the nearest chair. "What did Malfoy want?" Ron questioned as he approached.

The question caught him off guard, although he realized he should of expected it. "Uh, he just wanted to check and see if the Sarcio spell was still on us," he stated. It was a lame excuse, but no one in ear shot caught him on it.

Ron rolled his eyes, taking the seat across from him. "You'd think he'd believe the professor when he said it would take a week. Anyway, only two days left, you must be looking forward to everything going back to normal."

Harry nodded absently, a little caught off guard. Two days, that was all. In two days, they would go back to sitting in their seperate seats and hating each other.

Would Malfoy revert back to the jerk he'd been before? Would the truce cease to exist, and Harry would have to go back to hearing the taunting barbs and sabotagued potions? Just a few days ago, he would of been grateful. Now....

He didn't want them to be enemies. Obviously, he hadn't hated Malfoy as much as he'd thought, for it to disappear so easily. They weren't even close to being friends yet, but so much had happened, Harry couldn't imagine everything just going back to the way it had been before.

He recalled what Malfoy had dreamed, stubbornly ignoring the physical part and thinking of the words he had said.

It almost seemed as though, deep down, Malfoy wanted them to be friends. As though Malfoy wanted some kind of approval from him. As rediculous as it sounded, what else could he get from those words?

'I love you.'

Harry mentally shook himself of the thought, and forced himself to focus on what Ron was saying. There couldn't be any meaning to the dream. It just didn't make any sense. 


	10. Chapter 10

One Week of Hell Chapter 10: Whirlwind

His emotions were churning inside of him, so many that he didn't know which one to feel above the other. The subtle line of hatred which had always been there still was, presently strengthened by his anger. But with it came a certain helplessness, frustraition, hope and pain.

He had spent so much time pushing the other away, he didn't know what to do now that the other didn't want to be pushed away.

His first failure, the loss of that friendship before it started, it had created that first thread hatred.

But even hatred was not strong enough to stop the other feeling that had come upon him.

Over the years, a grudging respect. An attraction to character, to skill, and finally to the person himself.

That had strengthened his resolve to dislike Potter even more, but at moments like this his emotions ran too strong and he didn't know what to do with himself.

It had been horrifying, that first moment when he'd brushed his hand against Potter's during an arugment, and a heat had run through him. He'd denied it as strongly as he could, still did, and refused to believe that he could feel anything for anyone.

He had prided himself on being able to handle himself alone. There were those that he would put up with, but no one that he would become dependant on. A Malfoy wasn't dependant on anyone. It was good only to make friendships when it would benefit you, and after Potter's refusal, there wasn't really anyone else in Hogwarts that mattered.

But there were moments at night, and even during the day, when his mind would stray and he couldn't stop himself from noticing that Potter had grown so they stood eye-to-eye. Noticing that those eyes were clear and warm, the color of freshly cut jade. Potter wasn't elegant in the least, but he held himself proudly all the same. The line of his mouth was often softened by a smile, and the mop of ruffled hair on his head begged to be pet into place.

Draco swore under his breath as he threw himself down onto his bed, glaring up at the ceiling. He had finished his homework last night, and now realized that he should of left some to lose himself in. As it was, he had nothing to do but think, and he didn't like the trail his thoughts were leading him down.

He resented those who had made friends with Potter. He hated the fact that they could make him smile so easily, that they could talk to him so casually, and that there was such an obvious care between them.

Draco turned onto his side, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. What had happened so suddenly that Potter would ask such personal questions, as if he actually gave a damn what was going on in Draco's life? One day, Harry couldn't stand him, the next his eyes looked so concerned that Draco almost couldn't stand it.

Everything had been so muddled up by this stupid Sarcio spell. Draco had been contented with the life that he had, and now it had been ripped out from under his feet. He didn't know where he stood right now. He couldn't even cast a damned simple light spell without Harry's aid, and that made him dependant.

His father had known. The moment Draco had meantioned that they'd learned it, his father had been suspicious of his meeker behaviour. That, of course, had been the reason for the 'skill test'. Malfoy had performed horribly compared to the past, and his father had known that he was relying on someone else to help him with his magic. He could only be thankful that his father hadn't directly spoken of it, otherwise Draco might of had to tell him that he was joined with Potter.

His father had had a plan, all those years ago. Draco hadn't questioned him on it, but he knew there was a reason why his father wanted him to make friends with Potter. That was obvious enough in the smack he'd been given for failing so miserably.

His father wasn't fond of physical punishment. Usually Draco would be stuck having to dust all of the books in their extensive library or something equally mundane. But those times when he'd failed so obviously, such as every instance where he got his ass kicked by Potter in Quiddich again and again, he could see his father's anger boil over and would need to use a spell to hide the bruises that would inevitably form the next day.

Love was not something tangible in the Malfoy family. There was too much pride, too strong of egos. And so Draco did his absolute best to keep his secrets his own. He kept his mouth shut when he needed to, and trusted only those that he had to. He refused to be the weak link in the Malfoy chain, despite the emotions which assulted him.

Dreams were one thing. He would never allow them to become reality. He couldn't possibly, because it would only prove, yet again, how weak he was. It was bad enough as it was, that he found Harry's quiet presence in the back of his mind so comforting. 


	11. Chapter 11

One Week of Hell Chapter 11: Walk in Another's Shoes

Hands worked their way up his thigh, across his stomach and chest. Everything those fingers touched tingled with warmth, his skin afire with the passion he felt within him. His breath was quick and shallow, sucked in between the assults on his mouth from another. He could feel the other's heated flesh against his own, their bodies tangled within the sheets of his bed.

"You make me feel powerful. You make me feel as though I can do anything, can feel anything. I don't want this to stop."

Who was speaking, he couldn't even tell. The kissing never stopped, and he didn't want it to. It was an ambrosia of pleasure that made him feel as he never had before. He did feel powerful, the way the other's skin shivered against his touch and the way the other was moaning and gasping just as he was.

This was perfection, peace and torture, happiness and violence. All at the same time, making his mind spin and his heart pound.

"Do you care for me? Do you want me? Do you need me to be with you?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Yes and more and all and everything."

How could anything feel this good? The walls he had erected around his heart had been stripped away, but he didn't care. How could he find fault with it, when it felt like this? There were no rules, no hatred or weakness or failure or sadness. There were no expectations or grades or tests to take.

There was just this feeling of completion, something he hadn't known he'd been missing, and it came from Harry, emitted from his body like a wave of comfort and love and surrounding Draco like a blanket of warmth and caring.

The connection was there, he could feel it. But it was different from before. It wasn't a whisper of comfort as it had been. It no longer sounded like a lullaby, but like a throbbing scream in the back of his mind.

He was frightened.

Where was Draco?

He hadn't realized until this very moment how comforting the other's presence in the back of his mind had been. Now he couldn't stop the fear that coursed through his body, as he realized that someone else now held the mind joining spell with him. Someone else, who's spirit was violent and twisted and not the least bit sorry to use the connection against him.

He could feel fingers of thought working their way through his mind. He could feel every precious memory he'd ever held being ripped away, until all that remained was all the horrors in life that he'd faced.

"Stop!" he yelled, trying to push the force away.

It wouldn't stop, didn't even pause. He could hear gleeful laughter, edging on insane, echoing through his mind and it terrified him. He'd never been attacked quite this way, and he didn't know what he could do to stop it. He didn't even know who was there, who was doing this to him.

He could feel all that made him himself being stripped away, his thoughts losing cohession as he was assulted by all those memories filled with pain and blood.

"Draco? Draco, where are you?" he screamed, desperately wanting whomever held the connection now to return it to Draco's control. He couldn't stand this for much longer. Why was this happening to him? Where had the soft whispers gone? How could he of let himself bare such an intimate part of himself to anyone?

"STOP!" 


	12. Chapter 12

One Week of Hell Chapter 12: Drawn

Anyone who saw Harry and Draco that Monday morning would of been startled. Never would they of seen two people who looked completely different look so similar. Both had skin paler than usual, accented by the dark circles under their eyes. Both looked exhausted and slightly ruffled.

During breakfast, gossip was passed around so quickly about what could be going on. The two hadn't been seen together besides that breif moment yesterday afternoon. Could it of been a side effect from the Sacrio spell? Was it tapping their energy, leaving both looking dead on their feet?

Of course, no one knew about the mind joining spell, which had yet to be reversed since the two hadn't spoken since their arugment.

Harry absently pushed his food around on his plate, not particularily hungry that morning. Unfortunately, thanks to classes, he couldn't crawl back into bed as he had yesterday. Another sleepless night had plagued him, after the strange mixture of dreams that had assulted him.

He was so dazed, he couldn't even tell which had been his own. He didn't really want to explore either of them very closely. The joining seemed to be stronger this morning, whether it be from his tiredness or the train of his thoughts, but even his thoughts didn't seem to be his own. The whipser of Draco's voice followed his own, as though they weren't indeed two seperate minds.

Still, after the nightmare, Harry was grateful. There was no threat there, it caused no fear inside of him. It was something familiar, even after such a short time, and it helped soothe his edgy nerves.

Still, that in itself made him nervous.

Why wasn't he upset about the second dream of passion? Why hadn't he been upset the first time? It had unsettled him, certainly, but the memory of it cause only confusion. There was no revulsion toward it, no real sense of the wrongness that it should of caused. He had been kissing, touching Draco. Had found fascination in the other's body and mind. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why part of him hungered for more.

He wanted to know Draco. He couldn't deny that now. He wanted to know what made up the blond, his personality, his magic, his thoughts and dreams. He wanted to know why and how, and everything else.

Gods, he was confused.

He could feel the hunger that his thoughts created in the other, although he could tell Draco was trying to hide it. Draco was just as curious as he, and unable to hide it in the befuddled condition they were in. The texture of skin and hair and lips, the warmth and comfort in the touch of minds and bodies. What would it be like not to fight, not to hate? What would it be like to see each other and talk like friends, to jest and joke and tease without malice?

What would it be like to kiss?

Harry shuddered, trying to pull himself away from those thoughts. He had to regain some kind of control over himself.

Luckily, Hermoine suddenly appeared beside him, and he grabed for the distraction as she pinned urgent eyes on him. She hadn't been here when he and Ron had arrived for breakfast, although they had made sure a space remained open for her at the table beside them.

"Harry, you wouldn't believe what I just heard," she said in a whisper, leaning over so that no one else would be able to overhear.

"What?" he questioned, a little worried at the need for secrecy.

"I had just dropped off an extra assignment I'd done for Dark Arts when I heard Grendall talking with Dumbledore. They were talking about you and Malfoy, and the Sarcio spell. Apparently, it wasn't just coincidence that Grendall had chosen the two of you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I guess Grendall wasn't as oblivious to the hatred between you and Malfoy as we thought. Neither was Dumbledore. We weren't actually supposed to learn the Sarcio spell for a couple of months, but Dumbledore asked Grendall to teach it. I guess it was some plan to help you and Malfoy get along."

Harry was startled by this revelation, having never thought that there had been a reason behind Grendall's apparent bad judgement. "Why would they do that? It's not like there has never been competition and fighting between students before. Almost all of the Gryffendor's and Slytherin's dislike each other."

Hermoine shook her head. "They didn't talk about it long, and I didn't want to be caught outside the door, so I don't know exactly why they did it. But, I guess, Dumbledore thought it would be better for you and Malfoy if you got along with each other."

Harry was quiet as he digested this. Really, he suspected that Sarcio had done a lot more than just that. 


	13. Chapter 13

One Week of Hell Chapter 13: No Sure Footing

Well, it was gone. All of it was finished. They had managed to get together long enough to remove the joining spell, and Sarcio had worn off two days ago.

It had been a week that had turned Harry's life upside down, changed so much about himself and what he had taken for granted. He didn't know where he was now, in the grand scheme of what had been the 'Malfoy/Potter Rivalry'.

Draco knew that many of his secrets had been revealed, and Harry knew that so had many of his own.

The two of them hadn't spoken a word to each other since ending the joining spell, and even that moment had been filled with uncomfortable silence. Harry found that he couldn't meet Draco's gaze, and was almost grateful that he could move back to his regular table with either Ron or Hermoine beside him.

And the world around them went on as ordinary, Quiddich, classes, tests and classmates. It was almost unbelieveable that everyone and everything else remained the same, when Harry had changed so much.

What was he supposed to do now? It didn't seem possible that he could just continue on as he had before. There was a desire within him to at least talk to Draco, to say anything that might help clearify things. He wanted to know more about Draco's father, why he had gotten so upset about it before. He wanted to know the truth about those dreams, what they meant. He wanted to know what the truce had turned into, because it certainly wasn't just a simple truce anymore.

He wanted to know what Draco wanted from him, despite the fact that Draco hadn't asked for anything.

Outloud, anyway.

It was because of this that Harry sought the other out after dinner. He had a couple of hours before he would have to show up for Quiddich practice, and he knew Draco didn't have it until tomorrow.

The blond paused when he saw him, and looked tempted to just keep walking. Harry moved in front of Draco's path, just in case.

"So, are we friends now?" Harry questioned.

Draco snorted. "I doubt that," he replied.

"Look, we can avoid each other forever, or we can talk."

"Avoiding sounds nice."

"Not happening," Harry stated firmly, grabbing part of Draco's sleeve and making sure the other came with him to an empty classroom, where they could talk without having half the school eavesdropping.

Draco didn't look very happy about the situation, but he didn't put up a fuss as Harry closed the door behind them.

"Even if I wanted to, I can't put things back to the way they were before. Even without the mind joining spell, things would of changed, and I can't just pretend nothing's happened. You've avoided my questions before, Draco. But given some of the things I've learned, I think I deserve the answers to at least some of those."

"What do you expect out of me, Harry? Dreams are just dreams, and I can't help what they contain no matter how humiliating they are."

"But what do they mean? You can't tell me that it's just a coincidence that you have not one, but two of these dreams while we were joined, and have never had them before. So, what, are you attracted to me? Because I can't think of anything more unlikely, but haven't been able to figure out another reason."

Steel grey eyes flashed in anger, and Draco met his gaze squarely. "They don't mean a damned thing, Potter," he snapped.

Harry raised his eyebrow. "So, I'm "Harry" for one moment, then "Potter" once again the next? I want to know what's going on Draco. No more of these 'running around in circle's' responses." It was at that moment that he realized he'd been using Draco's first name as well, as though their sudden connection wouldn't allow for the formality of last names. The name had passed on his tongue as casually as any other word, as though it didn't signify so much.

Draco stalked closer to him, until they were only a few inches apart. Their noses were nearly touching, and it took almost everything Harry had not to back away from the obvious challenge. "Why can't you let this go?" he questioned.

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly. "The things that happened in those dreams, the words that were said.... They echo in my mind and no matter how hard I try to forget them, they won't go away. I find myself wondering things I never would of thought before, and even though I know I shouldn't be, that doesn't stop it from happening. It's not just curiousity, Draco. I want to know things about you, and just a week ago I never would of thougth that possible."

The silence seemed to stretch between them, before Harry suddenly found his body seized and his lips claimed. His eyes went wide, and he could only hang there for a moment as Draco's mouth forced his lips apart and he felt the other's tongue brush against his own.

It was intoxicating, and his body suddenly errupted in heat, and Harry moaned before he could stop himself. He'd never been kissed before, certainly not like this. He couldn't think, couldn't even breathe, and his legs went weak. He sagged against Draco, unable to pull away from the hands and lips that were upon him.

Just as quickly as it had begun, it ended, and Harry nearly fell over as Draco pulled away from him.

"There, maybe it's out of your system now," Draco said, sounding utterly composed except for a slight breathlessness.

Harry couldn't do anything except watch the other leave, words failing him in his shock.

What the hell was wrong with him? He'd always prided himself on his control. He had always been so very careful, even when his temper was at it's breaking point, to make certain he kept his emotions under tight control. In the last couple of days, he'd been acting like he had none at all, and felt as though all of himself was bared for the world to see.

It had been the questions, the fluent sound of his name on those lips. His hormones had gotten the better of him, and Draco had suddenly found himself kissing Harry.

He couldn't deny it any longer. He had tried so hard to pretend the dreams were just something inane like stress. He'd done his best to insist that his careful watching of the other's form throughout the day had only to do with his competative spirit. He had tried to tell himself that his fascination with the other only had to do with Harry's magical ability, and nothing else.

He'd told himself that his desire was just for Harry's failure, not for Harry himself.

All of that had been shattered, broken by his own actions. How could he of done something so stupid?

It felt as though he were losing himself, piece by piece. First his magic, then his mind, and now his heart. He barely recognized his reflection in the mirror, the face the same, but his eyes achingly different. His eyes, which had always been what betrayed him, betraying him again by showing the confusion and distress he felt. Anyone could see it, plain as day on his face, that something wasn't right. And now he couldn't deny that any longer.

It was something utterly frustraiting, humilitating and horrifying.

If anyone ever found out, Draco couldn't imagine what would happen. If his father ever found out... Draco would be lucky if he was just disowned.

Because it wasn't even as if he were just gay. That might be forgiveable, even if it was dishonorable.

But Draco had never felt anything but a passing desire for anyone other than Harry. He didn't know what curse had been laid upon him, but Draco had never been able to find even a slight attraction to anyone else.

He never should of come to Hogwarts, never should of met Harry Potter. If it hadn't been for that fateful day, his life wouldn't of began to slowly crumble around him.

So, what was he supposed to do now?

What Harry had said and asked, Draco couldn't help the small hope inside of him from thinking that Harry might return his feelings. The other boy hadn't pulled away from Draco when he'd kissed him, although he hadn't really kissed him back.

Was there really anything that he could do? Draco was used to taking action, but was at a complete loss with this sudden situation he'd found himself in.

It seemed, Harry would have to make the second move if there were to be one. 


	14. Chapter 14

One Week of Hell Chapter 14: My Own Dreams

It was only because of his complete exhaustion that Harry was able to fall asleep that night, the second his head hit his pillow.

Almost immediately, he was back in that classroom. Draco stood across from him, those familiar silver eyes watching him carefully.

"Do you love me?" Draco questioned.

"No," Harry replied instantly.

"Do you love me?" Draco asked again, as though not hearing his reply.

"No," Harry replied, more slowly this time.

Somehow, they were standing right in front of each other. He could feel the heat of Draco's body while it stood so close to him. He could see each of Draco's lashes over his hooded eyes. Eyes that still gazed into his own, as though seeing all of his secrets.

"Do you love me?"

The words seem to throb in Harry's mind, and he could feel the brush of Draco's breath against his lips. "I can't," he replied, his voice almost nothing.

"Why not?" Draco asked now, and Harry felt fingertips brush lightly against his cheek, making his skin tingle.

"I don't know," he whispered, unable to pull his eyes away from the other.

"Did you like our kiss? Do you like my touch? Do you wonder what it would be like to have more? Do you burn from the inside out, wanting to know what it would be like?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he felt heat slide down his spine. He felt dazed, confused. How could things of changed so quickly? How could he of gone from his blissfully rather ignorant life to this one, filled with questions and sensations and confusion.

He had known that hormones would begin affecting him as he aged into his teens. In fact, they already had a little. But how could these hormones want so badly for Draco to touch him? What did it mean, when Draco's touch created such a fire in him when no one else's ever had?

"Do you love me?"

The words were whispered against his ear, and he shivered.

"I don't know...."

Harry's eyes snapped open. Blackness was all the met his eyes, but he heard the familiar sounds of his friends breathing and snoring and so didn't panic.

Not that it mattered, he was too surprised to do more than lay there anyway. His first vaguely romantic dream, and it had featured Draco. That in itself wasn't surprising, since Draco had been on his mind almost every minute of the day for the last week. But he'd been so bothered by Draco's dreams of him, he hadn't paused to think what would happen if he had his own. He hadn't been planning on having his own! 


	15. Chapter 15

One Week of Hell Chapter 15: The Next Move

The week which followed had to be one of the worst Harry had ever gone through. He was caught in some kind of mental hell, his thoughts spinning around in a confusing whirl. He was having trouble sleeping and concentrating on both Quiddich and his school work. He'd never been presented this situation before, and honestly didn't know what to do now that it was here. All of his previous troubles had been pretty black and white. He knew his enemy, and knew how to fight them.

This time, there was no enemy. This was a problem of emotion, the strongest of emotion, and it was something he hadn't really been prepared to face.

His nights were plagued by dreams which only proved to trouble him more. It was suddenly as though, now that his mind knew it was possible, it had latched on like a pitbull and didn't want to let go. He couldn't stop wondering what it would be like to act on the emotions that refused to be subdued.

He knew that Draco was attracted to him, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

What Harry had to do was figure out what he was going to do about it.

Did the sudden onslaught of dreams mean that he was attracted to Draco in return? How could that be possible, when he'd disliked him so strongly just a short while ago?

Well... that wasn't true, exactly.

Harry's absent note-taking ended as that single thought occured to him.

He had taken it for granted that he hated Draco, because during some brief moments he really had. But Harry had never had it in him to really dispise someone. On occasion, his anger would get the best of him, but it always faded not soon after.

So what had his feelings been toward Draco all of this time?

Irritation, for certain. But a grudging respect. Draco really was a brilliant wizard. He wasn't the best, but he was still skilled. His spells, once he learnd them, always flowed so easily.

Harry had always taken careful note of Draco, whether he'd noticed or not. Draco's grades and responses in class. The seat he always took in the dining hall. How he responded and reacted to those around him. How he walked, with his head held high and not a movement wasted.

He hadn't realized until the truce that he'd enjoyed their verbal sparing. He'd enjoyed having Draco's attention, having those eyes pinning his own. But he'd never stopped to really think as to why his heart would beat a little harder and his interest would be peeked. Certainly, it wasn't because he was being insulted.

So, once again, what was he supposed to do about it?

Things could continue on as they were, with the two of them not talking to each other and everyone else noticing and whispering and wondering what happened. They could keep the uncomfortable silences, the unfulfilled dreams, and the wondering of what could be.

Or he could do what his insticts, dreams, and heart were screaming at him to do.

For their final class that day, when Harry entered the room, he made his way straight to where Draco was sitting. Without a word, he sat down next to the other boy. Ron and Hermoine were shocked with his actions, but didn't have the chance to ask him anything before the professor entered.

A glance out of the corner of his eye showed Harry that Draco was just as shocked as his two friends, and probably the rest of the class. But he kept his head held high, and didn't move as the class progressed.

As he'd hoped, when class was finished, Draco didn't immediately get up. Harry asked his friends if they could go on ahead without him and, relunctantly, they agreed.

Finally, he and Draco left the classroom together, neither of them speaking as they moved away from the rest of the students, into an empty hallway.

Here, Harry stopped and looked over at the other boy. "I'm not going to spend the rest of my life pretending that nothing's happened. Nor am I going to spend the rest of my life wondering what could of happened," he stated simply, letting Draco draw his own conclusions from that.

"It's not easy to be my friend, Harry."

Harry's lips quirked up in a ghost of a smile. "I'm not exactly asking to be your friend, Draco," he returned.

There was a stretched silence, and Harry looked up at the other. Malfoy's expression was bland, except for the intensity of his eyes. He could read a lot here, most of all confusion. He'd never realized until now how expressive Draco's eyes could be.

"Do you really know what you're asking?" Draco finally asked.

This time Harry did smile, slowly walking over to the other until they were only a small distance apart. He took a deep breath, remembering the first of the dreams he'd had, remembering the questions and answers and the honest truth that had come to him then. It had begun this torturous week, and opened doors within his own mind that he hadn't even known were there.

"Yes, I do."

The End 


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